The honey sweet yet bitter galls,
For light from dark must spring.
The blood must flow before the pall’s
Discarded with a fling.
We look for resurrection still,
We hope that it still saves –
But those who seek to grasp it will
Succumb to foolish waves.
He doesn’t take us out of here,
The pain endures as e’er.
Our side is pierced by wicked spear,
The nails at limbs still tear.
For passion only can redeem;
In broken bread’s the leap.
Betrayal and denial’s seam
Is furrowed hard and deep.
There’s easy joy in empty tomb:
Much harder is the call
To make our very selves the womb
Of our defeated fall,
To sit and dine with Christ alive,
To go beyond and touch,
To see in strangers who arrive
The one who loves so much.
For resurrection comes when we
With soldier utter cry:
That dead fool there…
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